


Finding a rhythm

by Allez_Argeiphontes



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Amos POV, Gratuitous Smut, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, amos breaks his own rules, in which amos tries not to have feelings fails and actually might like it, praxos being plant dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allez_Argeiphontes/pseuds/Allez_Argeiphontes
Summary: Amos can't sleep so he goes to work on the green panels to clear his head. Finds Prax in the machine shop and well,,, :PSet during or soon after 03x02. Written because Silver_89 keeps pushing me to get a fucking move on. And because I have a lot of feelings about these two idiots and Amos actually getting to have good things.





	Finding a rhythm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silver_89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_89/gifts).



Amos wakes suddenly, straight from the nightmare to the dark of his bunk too fucking quick. He reaches for the display panel, waits until its glow illuminates the cabin. Now at least he can see that he’s alone. _Thank fuck._ Amos kicks off the sweaty sheets and lays there for a bit. Deliberately slows his breathing and repeats what he’s been telling himself since yesterday: they didn’t kill Prax’s kid. They didn’t kill Mei. Except that they did, didn’t they? If not Mei, then a kid just like her. _Fuck._

Amos scrubs at his eyes and attempts to stop caring. The display glows 04:45 in a shade of violet deemed soothing by MCRN designers. Amos glares at it resentfully until his sleep-clothes become unpleasantly clammy. By the time he’s found fresh clothes, gulped water and taken a piss, Amos knows he’s not going back to sleep. _Rise and shine baby._ He checks on the autopilot alerts in Ops and stops by the coffee maker on his way to Machine Shop B. Working on the green panels might calm him down some. Except that when the door slides back, it’s clear someone else had the same idea. Caught between the white of the overhead panel and the blue bench light, Prax looks strange, no part of him quite the right colour. _Still lovely though._ Prax hasn’t noticed him, so Amos clears his throat loudly as he approaches the bench.

“Can’t sleep Doc?”

“My dreams aren’t very pleasant right now,” the botanist says dryly. He selects a new seedling, weighs it in his palm before glancing at Amos. “Seems to be a common problem.” Amos bites the inside of his cheek, starts pulling out his tools. Prax seems unfazed by the silence and they quickly fall into a practiced rhythm. Prax liberates the seedlings from the nursery trays while Amos preps the panels. They place the irrigation tubing together and last of all is a screen to hold the plants in place. It’s simple, satisfying work and they move and out of each other’s space with ease. Prax lifts out the seedlings knowing Amos already has a prepped tray in place, doesn’t even have to look. Easy. Amos tries to lose himself in it, but the chill of his nightmare is persistent. Prax hums as he works but Amos can see the tension in his neck, the way his shoulders are just a little too high. It’s odd to see Prax in a t-shirt and pants instead of his coveralls, sleeves pulled down and zipped up to the throat. He looks softer like this, unguarded. The slanted edge of a tattoo pokes out of his sleeve.

Amos isn’t dumb, he knows Prax is hurting, knows it’s worse since the monster. Knows just how he’s haunted. He can’t lie and say that they definitely didn’t burn Mei in their drive plume, but Amos aches with wanting to make it better somehow. Except he never was any good at cheering people up though - you need Naomi and Alex for that sort of thing. And then, because Amos’s brain hates him, it supplies the one sure fire way he definitely does know how to cheer someone up. _Sick fuck._ Amos swallows, stares hard at the tray in front of him. Tries not to think about the warmth of Prax’s skin despite the lights, that little bit of ink and the fact that Prax is the most undressed Amos has ever seen him. _Stop it. You cheer someone up by listening to their woes, not fucking them on the workbench. Sick fuck._ Amos forces himself to unravel more tubing. Thinks very hard about helping Shed debride the stump of Paj’s arm. _Ok._ Amos gets back to work and mostly focuses until Prax reaches across him for a screwdriver. Because suddenly Prax is right in his space, warm skin brushing his and Amos wants to touch him so bad. It’s too close and too much and Amos turns towards him like a leaf to the sun.

“Amos?” Prax doesn’t look alarmed by Amos’s hand on his side, the way he’s suddenly so close. Doesn’t look like he even minds. Amos tries to breathe. “Amos, are you ok?” _In, out, in again._ Amos manages a vaguely affirmative noise and Prax’s face softens. He puts down his tools, gently takes the screen from Amos and gets rid of that too. “Did you sleep at all? These panels can wait you know, it’s ok, we can just...” Prax trails off, bites his lip.

They’re face to face now and Amos’s hand has slid round to Prax’s hip. Amos is vaguely aware that he should move, should say something. But Prax’s gaze has dropped to his mouth and he’s so damn close. _Why isn’t he moving away?_ When Prax finally looks back up, Amos sees embarrassment there and. _Oh._ Then Prax actually blushes and Amos burns up. Part of him is awry but the rest slides into place, moving without forethought. Because as scared as Amos is, it’s ok if Prax wants this too. So Amos uses his knuckles to tilt Prax’s chin up, looks at the soft bow of his mouth and back up to his eyes. Moves in slowly, giving him every chance to say no. Prax does not say no.

Prax’s mouth is soft against his and Amos falters for a second. But Prax grips his shoulders, pressing flush as his mouth opens for Amos and it’s, it’s a lot. It’s a lot and it’s good and when they eventually pull back Amos is floating. He rests their foreheads together, talks himself through a couple more breaths. Prax’s eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling. Amos kisses his cheek and when Prax finally looks up it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. They grin at each other like idiots and then Prax is kissing him again.

This time Amos’s isn’t afraid and when Prax pulls him in, he just fucking goes. Lets himself be carried on the pull and the heat of it. It’s so good, so easy. It’s nothing like he’s used to and when Prax’s ass hits the workbench Amos pulls back but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t want to. Mouths down Prax’s neck instead, enjoys the soft noise he gets in response. Shivers when Prax’s fingers trail from his shoulder to his jaw and hold him in place without even trying. Amos can’t look away, even if he wanted to. He’s wanted this for so long, imagined just how he’d make Prax gasp, all the sweet noises he’d make. But now they’re here and Amos is suddenly very happy to not have a plan.

He can feel Prax hard against his hip and Amos _wants._ He presses his face to Prax’s neck just to not think. Mouths at the skin there, hint of teeth to hear him moan, hands up under his shirt as Prax palms the front of his coveralls. Somehow Amos finds the brain cells to reach for the bench controls, winking at Prax as he shuts off the room cam. Prax rolls his eyes and Amos keeps on grinning.

When the time comes, it feels absolutely right to be on his knees for Prax. To shut everything out except making Prax feel good. Those clever hands are light on his neck, cold floor against his knees and Prax feels so fucking good in his mouth. Amos applies himself and he soon he feels Prax start to come undone. His fingers tighten on Amos’s shoulders, hips stuttering and every time he moans it goes straight to Amos’s dick. “fuck fuck fuck, oh fuck you’re gonna make me…” Amos hollows his cheeks and squeezes Prax’s ass hard before pressing forward again. Then it’s easy to just keep going, keep going until Prax is gripping tight enough to hurt and that’s it and he’s coming straight down Amos’s throat.

Amos hauls himself up to watch Prax come down from it. Loops his arms around Prax’s waist and tries not to feel tender as he wipes his mouth. By the time Prax’s eyes have focused, Amos is so hard he feels like he’s gonna pass out. He doesn’t want that, so he goes to touch himself, no big deal.

“Stop that,” Prax frowns reproachfully at him, stills his wrist. Prax fits their bodies back together easily, opens layers of clothing and kisses him at the same time. When his hand wraps round Amos’s neglected cock it flashes through him like a flame given oxygen, thoughts rushing from his head. Amos buries his face in Prax’s shoulder and ignores the wrecked little sounds he knows he’s making, the roar in his ears and the clench of his heart. It doesn’t take long and Prax holds him through it, shushes him and kisses him soft. Amos can’t remember the last time anyone kissed him.

They end up staying like that for a while, swaying on the spot, oblivious to the mess and the knocked over seed trays. Amos is almost afraid to look at Prax. Afraid for what he’ll see and for what might show on his face. Because although he’s familiar with the loose satisfaction spreading through his body, the other stuff is new. He’s used to sex as fulfilling a need, a bodily function. You do it and then you feel better and then you go looking for a drink. But all Amos wants is to stay close to Prax, to hold him and keep this warm glowy feeling safe from harm. It’s strange and good and Amos doesn’t want to examine it too hard right now.

It’s almost a relief when Prax starts looking around for something to wipe his hand with. They disentangle themselves and Amos pulls off his shirt, holds it out grinning “What? You’ve seen it all before Doc.” Laughs before flushing warm at the fondness on Prax’s face. It breaks the spell and Amos doesn’t feel weird anymore. Just good as he straightens his coveralls, gets another kiss and picks up the fallen trays. Even when Prax leans against him, it feels easy to wrap an arm around him and smile into his skin. They lean relaxed against the workbench and Amos closes his eyes for a bit. Basks in the happy feeling and the soft movement of Prax’s hand on his neck. When he opens his eyes Prax is still there, warm and rumpled and beautiful in the ambient light. Amos exhales slowly, rests his head against Prax and takes another breath in, out, in again. Easy.

**Author's Note:**

> yep. Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://allez-argeiphontes.tumblr.com/).


End file.
